


Two Halves Make a Whole

by Miss_Macabre_Grey



Series: Filling in Gaps [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Discussions of racism and internal racism, Lance is completely Cuban but biracial, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Macabre_Grey/pseuds/Miss_Macabre_Grey
Summary: Being in space brings up how Lance isn't at home, and sometimes remembering at home doesn't always make lance happy. Somehow, Lotor can relate, and they get to figure out a little more about each other.-Lance starts thinking about the best person he could introduce to his family, and how there’s a lot to consider if he brought home an alien.





	Two Halves Make a Whole

**Author's Note:**

> So this leaves off from part one where Lance and Lotor bond, br Lotor breaks a glass so they agree to sneak to Lance’s room to avoid getting in trouble. I would have let it be chapter two, but I like that chapter one was sort of G-rated and open to anyone to read how they may start interacting.  
> ✨  
> Thanks for stopping by, just being around at all is so nice!

Lance encourages Lotor to sneak off with him successfully. Lotor and he escape to Lance’s room with silent footsteps for the journey, but Lance feels himself screaming internally. Lotor walks by his side with heavy interest in looking around, admiring the tiny details but sighing at the overall bland setup for the hallways. Lance realizes Lotor’s living accommodations were on the opposite direction from his own, and that he probably should not be taking a questionable person on a semi-tour of the castle.

They walk together with the intention of leaving their mess in the kitchen behind and trying to get out of trouble, but it feels nothing like sneaking around in the garrison. Lance would try to be stealthy through the hallways with a cute date, holding her hand through it as they tried to suppress their giggles and giddiness. Like they were being bad, they knew it, and it was fun and cute then. The excitement of finding a secluded place to make out or even just to continue flirting making it seem worth it.

With Lotor, the sneaking off to his room seems so surreal. Lance has no end goal or idea other than Lance suggested they hide and Lotor suggested hiding in his room. Lance, somehow, thought that sounded like a good idea despite Lotor still being a moral mystery. By being a moral mystery, though, Lance figured leading him into a secluded place, letting him see Lance’s personal being via his room, would indicate how to gauge Lotor’s trustworthiness. Not that Lance thought that at the time, since he agreed because he is a sucker for a pretty face and a velvet voice suggesting they head to his room, even if not to make-out.

With Lotor beside him, Lance sees his face as neutral, maybe leaning on amused. Lance catches his gaze as they walk, since, of course, Lotor has no idea which room is Lance’s, and how he walks with purpose despite not knowing the direction is amusing. Lotor does have longer legs than Lance, and they move fast to set the pace. That speed annoys Lance because if they do they caught it would seem more suspicious, but that may be Lotor’s natural pace: powerful and assured strides across the ground upon which his majesty walks. The thought makes Lance smile, and he really notices how Lotor seems like perfect royalty. All Lance needs is Lotor wearing a long cape.

Lance likes that he gets to walk with Lotor beside him, even if the ex-prince sets the pace to an uncomfortable speed; he feels strangely at ease after their little talk. Without thinking, Lance almost reaches out to grab Lotor’s hand because Lotor started to walk ahead, and nearly misses the turn that leads to Lance’s room. The only reason Lance stops himself from letting his fingers reach Lotor’s is that Lance’s room is only two steps away, and Lotor sees within less than a second that Lance changed directions.

The door slides open, and Lance welcomes Lotor in with a bow and arms directing him inside. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says with a large grin and hearty voice. “It’s not exactly swanky, but it’s comfy.”

Lotor turns to Lance from inside the room as Lance closes the door behind them. “‘Swanky’?” Lotor is sharp, and Lance has to wonder what details he picks up on that could later be used against him later. The idea Lotor being so clever and calculating that he will betray Lance conflicts with the Lotor who sits on Lance’s bed without qualm and curiously looks at Lance because of a silly Earth word.

“Isn’t it a cool word? I learned it recently!” Lance keeps his smile, even when Lotor’s face turns into more confusion. “Um, it means that something is cool, but kinda has a retro feel to it.”

Lotor shakes his head, but he seems pleased as he makes subtle bounces on Lance’s mattress. “Swanky does not come off my tongue well, but I do like when you say it. It seems like a decent word.”

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of weird words I learned when I was learning English! I didn’t really know what to study to get pass the garrison’s entrance exam, but finding cool parts in the language helps me learn.”

Lotor does not take an open interest in Lance’s life, which makes sense since Lance called them friends maybe 10 minutes ago. Still, Lotor has kept up the conversation for the past hour, and Lance wonders why he seems to have nothing to say now. Hoping that he did not suddenly lose Lotor’s interest, Lance assumes the silence on the other end is because he is looking around and trying to figure out Lance’s decor.

Lotor turns back to Lance, full attention on Lance that it feels unnerving, and says, “You remind me why I never liked enslaving planets. Other beings have such odd expressions and cultures. The idea that you had to learn another language while on Earth must mean Earth is filled with various interesting things across the planet.”

The heaviness brakes, and Lance almost falls out of his chair had he not actually been sitting comfy on the floor already. “I . . . don’t know what to say. Honestly, sometimes you don’t even have to travel across the Earth to have a culture shock. Just going a village over can change how people talk and act. People are, I dunno, weird, but it’s nice. If you like, uh, not dooming and damning planets, then Earth would definitely be a cool vacation spot.”

Lotor nodded his head, slowly as his eyes cast downward in thought. “That seems unlikely. Vacation is hardly a common word among the Galra, but . . . I would like a brief visit of your home world, if you would allow me there.”

Lance laughed at the sincerity, which he feels a little guilty about but it really is so odd to hear. The heir to the Galran throne, when the war ends, wants Lance’s approval before coming to Earth? Like Lance cares if Lotor takes a trip to China or Egypt or Canada; Earth is huge and diverse. Who is Lance to say who can and cannot visit? Except, maybe not approval is not what Lotor means, and Lance wants to try reading between the lines more.

“Y’know what? Yeah. I’d love showing off my home. I’d welcome you there. Even if you don’t quite fit the image of human, you’re right. We never found dirt on you ever hurting planets you ruled. I can introduce you as a peaceful alien.”

Lotor rolls his eyes. “I am grateful someone understands that. Your princess questioned my motives far too much when I entered this alliance. I have no need for endless expansion and cruel enslavement.” Some strands of hair fall over Lotor’s face, but he pushes them back. “Would Earth allow for introductions for aliens? I heard they have been isolated.” A few more hairs slide across Lotor’s face as he tilts his head to one side.

Lance wonders how late it is, since usually Lotor’s hair stays perfectly in place while he moves. Lance wants to keep talking to Lotor despite knowing they should head to bed, though, and he likes the brief glimpse he got of disheveled Lotor. He catches himself staring when Lotor gives him an expectant look. Lance usually does the talking, so shame on him for slacking off to admire the contrast of white against lavender. Not to mentioning if having long hair gets ticklish, or if Galra even feel tickling sensations, or if _Lotor_ feels ticklish, or if Lance would live he tried to tickle Lotor. Lance barely manages to snap from that train of thought, the imagine of him roaming his hands over Lotor’s body to get him to laugh and giggle beneath him, a thought to repress and burn. 

“Uh, yeah, no, my family would freak out. They’d be pissed, scared, and, I dunno, maybe disappointed — at me, not you.”

Lotor crosses his arms, a silent cue that he wants more information. Not that Lance ever shied from talking about his family, but never about some of the issues he has with them. The fundamental fears ingrained in him about letting them down only for being himself.

“Is it the ears?” Lotor asks as though that is the only problem with him going to Earth to meet Lance’s family.

“The ea-? No!” Lance laughs even more, but it really feels genuine in his stomach. Then he remembers. “N-no, Lotor, that’s not so bad. It’s honestly kinda cute. It’s. It’s a lot. I don’t know where to start considering even Allura would make them upset, and she isn’t purple!”

“Are there no purple humans?”

“Of course not! People only do that for a costume, if you ever saw it. I think I would say that people are usually on the ‘warm’ side of the color spectrum. Pale pinks or dark browns and in between, but never really any ‘cool’ colors like you.”

Lance can just tell he slipped by saying Lotor’s skin was cool as in the color spectrum when Lotor had a look of pride in his comment. The auto translators really needed to try and translate meanings better, but Lance shrugged it off for Lotor to talk. “So the princess, who has an ‘Earthly’ skin tone is not acceptable either. You’re certain it’s not the ears?”

“Pfft. It’s not the ears, dude,” Lance replies, not minding how casually he spoke to Lotor, as though they really are friends. “It’s more complicated than that. Allura is too ‘dark’ for me to introduce to my family. They wouldn’t care about her ears if she were blonde and white. Maybe her being a princess means they would be okay, but it’d be weird.”

“Your family, do they have problems based on skin?”

“Yeah, but it’s not just them. You can find that problem all over the planet. They don’t even believe in being platonic with a girl either. I tried to talk to one friend from school who lived nearby and they were low key annoyed that I was flirting with one of the darker girls. Seriously, I just liked how she drew faces in the sand! I was like eight: it's not like I wanted to date anyone. Let alone if I tried to flirt with a boy they’d never notice because the idea with me tryna get with a guy never would cross their mind.”

Lotor removes himself from the bed, and goes to sit near Lance on the floor. “We Galra have similar prejudices. I am not ‘pure’ in blood, and, at this point, I do not wish to be. I do wish, however, for the idea of Galran superiority to vanish, as the diversity I have seen across the galaxies have brought new ways of thinking to me that have made be stronger and better-witted. Though I am not where I thought I would be at this point in my life, many of my successes have been rooted in Galran purebred arrogance not diversifying how they strategize and analyze.”

“You consider yourself lucky, then? Even though it makes others underestimate or dislike you?”

Lotor pauses, but his answer is doubtless. “Yes.” Lotor puts a band on Lance’s shoulder. “I have exploited their expectations of me, of course, but I am lucky that I got to take the path of life that let me experience more than just the harsh reality of a Galran empire.”

Lance smiles to himself, happy to know Lotor can be so self-assured in his answer. He was confident in his genetic lineage, but Lance wonders what other discrimination Galrans may have. Probably an infinite amount more than Lance can imagine, but he still wonders how Galra and Humans compare. Lance folds his legs up, and wraps his arms around his shins while he rests his chin on his knees.

“I think that’s amazing, Lotor,” and Lance sounds breathless as he stares across the short distance at a very hot mixed-alien. Admiration fills in his heart and wonders if he should count his blessings that Lotor has such an nice mixture between his parents. Lance then remembers how Lotor became so accepting of himself, and laughs in his knees because taking down foes for their prejudices does seem like a great way at self-acceptance.

“I’ve done amazing things, but amazing seems incorrect. I merely act accordingly, but who I am? I never defined that before. Usually, before, I was defined with my generals, my fellow part-Galra.” Lotor’s claws scratch the carpet, slightly, not that Lance cares since it does not totally rip.

“Hey, I may not be able to define you, but I think amazing was a pretty good choice. I’m not saying it makes you good or evil. Just, y’know, amazing. Gets stuff done. You’re not really part Galra or part Altean. You’re you, wholly and 100 percent you. That makes you whole.”

Lotor takes Lance’s hand from his leg, and rubs small circles over it with his thumb the same way Lance had done for Lotor. “That applies to both of us, then. Except, in my opinion, you are ‘good’ as well as amazing.”

Lance feels truth in that, and wonders how Lotor can be so soothing to be around. “Anyway,” Lance begins, taking his hand back from Lotor even if he likes the touch, “don’t get me wrong. I still would love for you to visit Earth. Especially my home island, but we can take a look near the garrison, I guess, since I spent a lot of time growing up there, too.”

“You’d show me your home to your family even if that upsets them?”

“Yeah! It’s a beautiful island. And I think since you’re a guy it makes the race thing almost a non-issue. I mean, since you’re a guy they may just scream and panic and, later, gossip over dominoes about a cute alien boy their astronaut son found. They expect me to bring home a girl to marry so much I doubt they’d ever think you’d be my partner like the problem introducing Allura would bring since, of course, she’s a girl and if I’m bringing a girl home I’m marrying her. Or, of course, they find out I have an interest in men, and they freak out about that, so it means they bypass racism and go right into homophobia.”

Lotor has not learned a lot of the words Lance has used, from what Lance can tell. Even the word racism got a curious reaction, so it seems Lotor experienced racism without even having that type of concept for his discrimination in his language. Lance found that almost weird, but aligned with how he assumes Galra like to frame things.

“I would not be going to your home as someone you plan to marry regardless of your family’s viewpoints. I merely wish to see the home you love so much, even though you only mention the faults of it so far. Why?”

Lance shrugs. “Because It’s hard to talk about sometimes. Hunk understands a lot of my issues, except maybe the biracial part. Both his parents kinda look like him, but my grandmother? Oh, she makes good food but she can throw a _mean_ temper. My father said when he married my mom, she was openly horrified he would marry someone who wasn’t pale that he lost some hearing for days. She accepted my mom, I think, because her father went to school to become a lawyer, and at least she had a dignified background.” Lance sighs, and took a deep breath.

“I-I’m sorry. You’re right. I really am telling you all the bad parts. My family isn’t bad. It’s just, I dunno, my rambling about some issues that surfaced in space, and those issues happen to define parts of me. My family really is accepting. They’re loud, vibrant, and loving. They make enough food to give away to others, but we were too poor to even afford separate rooms for all the kids. And every kid had a voice and we made stories together at the beach — the bluest and purest water in the world — and stole mangoes from the Cervantes garden because they were rich enough to have a cow and land that we thought it was fine to just take the ones about to spoil. A-and, I have to make you food. Ripe mangoes are one thing, but my other mother would make you the biggest pot of paella or empanadas.”

Lance squeezed his legs tight to himself, putting his head into his lap so that he his his face instead of being able to see Lotor. Lance feels like he may cry, but his heart feels torn in too many different ways figure out how to cry out his feelings. Lotor keeps to himself when Lance shows his discomfort this time, but he remains a soothing presence. Lance kept his insecurities tucked when he the garrison somewhat, and even harder in space. Worrying about his heritage as a Cuban produced little value or merit in a universe of mixed races or even species. Lance wants to say something, but Lotor’s soothing voice pierces the air, and Lance raises his head back up.

“Then that is how I knew you were amazing. You come from a place where when people upset you or misunderstand you, you still see the beauty of your home and the people that make it.” Lotor laughs, rich but hollow, “I could not think like you, but I would be honored to have you guide me through the home that raised you to be so you.”

“Thanks for thinking that way about me. It’s a home, what can I say. Some things linger, though. My first thought of Earth is that I love it and it’s the best, but then there’s the little things that make me remember how scary it is to have some duty to your family that you don’t actually have the ability to fill. It was always,” Lance rolls his eyes and pauses to find the right tone, a nasally but powerful voice, Lance begins his impression: “ _Mira,_ Lancito, you have to bring home the daughter of a doctor! The Cervantes have a daughter only a few years younger than you, and she inherited her father’s pale skin. If you can get babies with your blue eyes and her pale skin it would make our family look good!”

“You should consider rebellion. If they’re only using you to advance themselves through breeding, then overthrowing them would be highly satisfying. Disregarding what your family expects from you, I find, had been quite liberating until recent events. I suppose, though, you really are different. You want comfort more than conflict, correct?”

Lance shrugged, guilty as charged. “What can I say? I’m a cuddler. I’m not going to stage a coup on my damn family, ya misguided weirdo. Fighting with family doesn’t make me happy. Seeing them happy, defending the universe so no evil takes over our home, that’s why I still have to fight.”

Lotor sighed, leaning back until his head rested against the edge of the bed and outstretched his legs. “That seems very responsible of you. You know, I have little reason to fight. Had it not been pride saying I cannot let my father and the witch beat me, I would have let myself fall. I will only reclaim purpose when I reclaim the throne and lead the Galra into a new age of peace and and civility. I have no home to fight for, but I think fighting to create a home may prove just as valid a motivation as any. A home that will be good to me for how I treat it well back. Or I slay opposition.”

“Okay, dammit, you ruined it! I was on the edge of my seat listening to you just now! You ruined it with the slaying opposition thing. If you were really fighting for a better home, then hell yeah, I’ll fight for you, too. I’ll fight for all our homes.”

“You expect me to allow dissonance and malevolent thoughts into my future?” Lotor asks with a quirked eyebrow. He deflected Lance’s confession, and Lance knows he saw Lotor’s face soften when he said he would fight for Lotor. Not that Lance will call Lotor out on his little cat act, since Lance understands that knowing Lotor heard him is different than making Lotor vocalize why Lance’s words were important, let alone important enough that he would want to hide that fact. Lance knows, in his heart, that Lotor has a part of him willing to care and reach out but will avoid showing it. That is fine; Lance has been scratched by wild cats before, then had them lick his hand when they became friends later.

“Sorry, dude, people should be allowed to talk about what they don’t like, too. Trust me. Violently saying you’re the best as you are and any disagreement is counter-revolutionary does not go well. A home can have bad parts as well as good parts. I already mentioned that already.

“Mm, my home was the part that raised most of me, almost all my good traits, but I never get the chance to think about some of the annoying parts. My fear of my racial standing has been lingering since I was a kid. Like, I didn’t even have a crisis about when I started to daydream about my dream _guy_ to kiss because I was already scared I wouldn’t bring home ‘someone good enough’ before thinking some gay thought. Damn, they really messed up perception of what my love life should be, I didn’t even get to panic about the other details besides race until I was away at the garrison. But sometimes having issues means that when I eventually talk to my family and work things out — which I’m pretty sure we will — it’ll make my home that much more beautiful.”

Lotor smiles at that. “They seem simple. Are they unable to be mad at more an one thing at a time? Regardless, your confidence in being able to talk to them seems refreshing.” Lotor looks smug, a spark in his eyes that means nothing good. “I’ll have you know the Galra always hold grudges, and can be angry about an infinite amount of issues.”

Lance cackles, genuinely holding his stomach at the earnest attempt at humor. Lotor really does have many talents, and part of what made Lance find it so hysterical to think of that comment as a joke came from how unnerved it made Lance considering it also sounds very much like a real Galra pattern. With his heart in lighter spirits, Lance regains his desire to vent. Something about finishing that section of the conversation and explaining his life for his own closure, but with a suddenly more revived smile that signals that he wants to explain his past with a more accurate storytelling. 

“Don’t think my grandmother is a simple woman, Lotor,” Lance pauses in the middle of his sentence and starts removing one of his shoes and holds it up at Lotor. Lotor sees it cocked like Lance is preparing to throw, but he only sways it at him in a almost silly threat. Lance forced a cough, Lotor cannot place why Lance looks at him with a stifled smile. “I’m not just saying she just told me what to do; there’s a certain art in trying to get kids to listen to you. You gotta use la chancla, the most powerful tool known to man. Or at least to my head.”

Lance continues waving around the shoe, and finally gets Lotor to look so far beyond confused that he begins to laugh. “That is absurd. No one would value your acrid smelling footwear to a dagger or blaster to command others.”

“Hey, man. This is a poor man’s Cuba. Not everyone is cool enough to have fancy-schmancy laser guns. You get some arm strength, and that’s all you need to make my — wonderfully smelling — shoe a valuable weapon.”

“You must refrain from waving that in my face, Lance. I have every ability to rip it.” Lotor challenges Lance with a hard stare. “And I will.”

“No way! These are priceless blue lion slippers! Red paladin or not, you can’t hurt my Bluey slipper!” Lance pulls himself away, clutching the slipper to his chest. “You don’t have any slippers, do you? You wouldn’t understand the bond a guy can make with his slipper.”

Lance only notices while he backs away for his slipper’s safety that he and Lotor were very close moments ago. Lance hates himself for being too caught up in chancla pride that he missed a chance to admire how pretty Lotor is up close. Lance calms himself because, with how the night has progressed, Lance assumes he can expect more close interactions. Lance has gotten so close to Lotor, physically, that he has to wonder why Lotor never seems genuinely close to hurting Lance, let alone killing him. Lance finds himself realizing by the minute how much he has let his guard down around Lotor, but he refuses to block Lotor out, not when he has only proved himself to be a needed companion.

“I have what I wore on my back when I came to you, and some plain linen in the room that was clearly not meant for someone my size, but I must wear when I wash my main clothing.”

Lance really wants to push himself closer to Lotor, and resists. He needs to let the other have personal space, even if Lotor did choose to sit on the floor with him on his own. “Damn. We really are treating you poorly. What’s your room even like?”

“It’s little more than a bed that is as long as my head to my knees. Then an open space would be a little smaller than the bed.”

“Shit, no wonder you loiter around the different parts of the castle. If you ever need some place to relax, I don’t mind having you over. Remember, I’m used to sharing a room with my siblings, so it’d almost be preferred having company more often.”

“That’s . . . a tempting offer. I do not oppose your company. I may still decline, since . . . “ Lance notices the pause. Lotor changes his expression from mild contentment to small panic, only to fall back to contentment when Lance puts his slipper on the ground and frees up his hands to touch Lotor’s knees. “I usually do not trust anyone. In my life, no one has earned it and used my trust wisely. Perhaps. Perhaps I am truly so fatigued that I consider you a . . . true ally.”

Lance scoffs. “I already told you, that the word is you can use for me is friend. At worst I’m like a chill coworker you don’t mind.”

Lotor leans his head back on the bed and Lance can barely see his smile. “I truly do not ‘mind’ you. Perhaps I spoke hastily when I said you had no need to consider introducing me to your family as a potential lover. If I had to choose a mate or a spouse or ‘queen’ of sorts, I would put you at the top list for candidates for the throne. Then you would be able to concisely consolidate all your issues with your family with one move.”

Lance puts his hands on the ground behind him, gently leaning back, and laughs, a weak bitterness seeping into the sound. “Jeez, imagine me now trying to romance someone, let alone you, to bring home to my family. I can’t imagine falling in love with a nice, white, Spanish girl a bajillion light years away, so it’s not like they could be mad at me for bringing home the powerful Prince Lotor.”

“Prince? Lance, by that point I would be rebuilding an empire as the leader. Surely you must have a better word than prince. Perhaps king? No, not that either. I’ll have consider better titles, so I’ll be open to suggestions.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I think you make for a good ‘His Majesty.’ Anyway, point is, be careful around my grandmother whenever I introduce you. She’s the scary one, but I’ve seen her warm up to people over time. She just tries hard because I’m a little darker than my siblings, but I have blue eyes so that’s something. Can’t make babies with another guy, though, so it doesn’t matter. Well, it is space. Hell if I know how space reproduction works with any gender of species. Like, fuck it, I think I’ll just fall in love and figure out the weird demographics later since flirting in space is already a weird concept, that I may as well let go of all my fears.” Lance begins to ramble, except then he looks at Lotor and shifts in his spot from the look in Lotor’s eyes. 

Lance looks at Lotor with a worried look. “I think,” Lotor says, slow and calm, “that ‘space reproduction’ is a fascinating topic to explore, Lance,” and Lance regrets asking Lotor to use his name because Lotor speaks in far to sultry a voice to say he so familiar, “but I am far too exhausted from lack of proper rest to begin explaining anything to you.”

Lance’s face goes red and he nearly screams. “Just! Go to bed! You can sleep in here, since you’re clearly tired! I’ll even leave so you don’t have to be worried about having someone nearby while you’re unconscious.”

Lotor stands up on his own, never letting his hands even touch the floor as his strong legs balance him to his feet alone. Lance looks down, face still warm and wondering how to melt to the floor. Except Lotor lowers a hand to Lance, and his face is neutrally amused as Lance looks up and takes grabs it palm-to-palm. They stand close to each other, even though Lance has plenty of space in his room, and even though either one can pull away from the other. Instead, they stare at each other. Lance sees the darker purple beneath Lotor’s eyes and melancholy of his eyes as he smiles at Lance.

“I’ll trust you as my ‘friend’ to not kill me while I sleep. I will not remove you from your own chambers. Please, Lance, let us sleep together. We both divulged a bit about each other, and I swear I will not let your words leave this room, but you should sleep to secure your newfound confidence of yourself.”

Lance takes a step forward as Lotor takes a step back to sit on his bed, and Lance mindlessly falls onto the bed with him. “Y-yeah . . . Okay, if you’re okay with me sleeping around you then I’m okay with you sleeping near me. And . . . I really am okay with you, in general. You’re pretty swanky, Lotor. I don’t think I even had the words to describe my insecurities, but you helped me sort myself out. When this war is over, you’ll let me introduce you to my family. That’s a promise.”

Lotor, still holding one of Lance’s hands, brings it over his heart and squeezes it. “That’s probably the most innocent promise I intend to keep. Yes, I want to visit your home. For now, let us sleep, and I will let you dream of it.”

Rolling to his side, Lance sees Lotor begin closing his eyes for the long, white eyelashes almost his cheek. He looks lovely, Lance admits, and comfortable in the little space Lance designed originally just for himself. Lance kind of wants his hand back, since he knows lying on his side will make his arm fall asleep, but he cannot find it in him to move. Instead, they just stay on Lance’s bed, quietly together since Lance feels like he has nothing left to say, and the feeling makes him content enough to drift to sleep on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY got to let Lance talk about his insecurities in relation to his race. That was the reason I began writing this at all. It’s 10000 words between to the two parts, and I may add more. I got the part I NEEDed to write out, but there’s some extra I want to write. I don’t want to worry about multiple chapters, so it may be stand-alone fic additions, but I expect to still make more for them.
> 
> Please, when you can, let me know how I did at fleshing them out and bringing them together so far.


End file.
